


Monday Mornings.

by WonderstruckSwan



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Because they are basically a big family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:59:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1222033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderstruckSwan/pseuds/WonderstruckSwan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daddy Treville and the kids get ready on another Monday morning. I just had to write it, OK?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Monday mornings in the Musketeer household where never easy. But life was never always easy. Athos, being the oldest at 16, woke up to the sound of his mobile phone beeping at 7:00. Grinning to himself, he lifted his carefully pressed and ironed school uniform and crept quickly to the bathroom, which to his despair had a note taped to it with better luck next time, brother :) scrawled in 14 year old Porthos’ handwriting. 

Things weren’t any better in the other bedroom.

‘Give it back,’ 10 year old d’Artagnan begged as his 12 year old big brother, Aramis, waved d’Artagnan’s school tie around his head as the child tried to grab it.

‘OK, OK, here,’ Aramis held the tie out to him. D’Artagnan reached out to take it, followed by Aramis snatching it away again, before dropping it on the floor. 

‘Boys,’ Treville called from the kitchen ‘your breakfast is getting cold.’ All four of them were adopted by Treville when they were just a few months old and couldn’t imagine life outside him. Thumping could be heard from upstairs and within minutes, Aramis and d’Artagnan were sprinting into the kitchen.

‘The pancake is mine,’ Aramis reached for d’Artagnan’s jumper and narrowly missing. D’Artagnan reached his plate, which Treville had placed two blueberry pancakes on.

‘Yeah right, bro,’ the young boy chuckled. Aramis rolled his eyes and filled a glass of orange juice while d’Artagnan sat at the table. Being the youngest meant they could never be permanently angry with him. Most of the time, anyway.

‘Dad,’ Athos appeared in the doorway, his school uniform perfectly neat, down to the shoelace ‘do you have any idea where my PE shorts are?’

‘In the laundry basket,’ Treville said without looking up from the paper.

‘Thanks,’ Athos left quickly and Porthos, hair still slightly wet from the shower, came in and picked up a box of Cornflakes.

‘Hey squirt, smaller squirt,’ he greeted his brothers, ruffling d’Artagnan’s hair as he passed. Porthos’ tie was short and his shirt untucked and instead of regulation school shoes, he wore scuffed black trainers, and didn’t even bother with their black school jumper. 

‘Porthos, would it kill you to wear your uniform properly?’ Treville half begged him.

‘Yes, yes it would,’ Porthos responded. 

Athos entered the kitchen ten minutes later and got himself some toast and leaned against the counter.

‘Porthos you used nearly half the shower gel,’ he said ‘other people live here too.’

‘You’re just grumpy because you lost. Again,’ Aramis and d’Artagnan chuckled at his response while Athos glared.  
D’Artagnan and Aramis placed their plates in the dishwasher and ran back to the bathroom, followed quickly by Athos.

‘What’s with the hair gel?’ Aramis asked d’Artagnan as he carefully styled his dark locks.

‘It’s called the hair gel phase, we both went through it,’ Athos reminded him with a toothbrush in his mouth.

‘It’s more than that,’ Aramis teased ‘would this have anything to do with Constance Bonacieux?’ 

‘Who?’ Athos asked, curious now.

‘Some girl in his class,’ Aramis went on. D’Artagnan blushed and elbowed his older brother in the ribs.

‘D’Arty loves Constance,’ Aramis sang.

‘Shut it!’ d’Artagnan wailed and looked up at Athos brother with big brown puppy dog eyes.

‘Aramis, leave him alone, OK?’ Athos said, looking straight at him.

Once they were all downstairs, Treville started going over final checks.

‘Athos, PE kit?’

‘Yep.’

‘Porthos, lunch money.’

‘Yep.’

‘Aramis, stay out of trouble.’

‘I’ll try.’

‘D’Artagnan, permission slip.’

‘Yep.’

‘Okay, go on, you’ll miss the bus,’ Treville smiled, tapping Athos lightly on the shoulder.

Once they were outside, Porthos grabbed d'Artagnan by the collar and dragged him into the corner of their front garden.

'D'Art, that Milady in your class, is she still giving trouble?' Aramis asked. D'Artagnan rolled his eyes.

'No,' he sighed 'she backed off.'

'Look kid, say the word and we'll jump in for you,' Porthos told him. Athos simply looked at him. As the oldest, Athos had been looking out for all his brothers since the day they came home.

'No, she's left me alone,' the young boy pleaded. Porthos looked at the others and sighed.

'OK, but one word from her and we're coming in,' he said.

'I'm sorry I didn't know you were home schooled,' Treville shouted from the upstairs window 'go on, all of you.'

The four walked on to the bus stop and hopped on, Aramis teasing d'Artagnan about Constance Bonacieux, Athos and Porthos fighting over a seat.

Just another hectic Monday morning.


	2. Tuesday Troubles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People asked me to update, so watch the boys get into a little after-school fun time.

When compared to getting them to school, the kids coming back was a relaxing downhill slide. D’Artagnan was no trouble, considering his primary school ended half an hour before the other three got out from high school. That was when the free for all began. If concerned parents weren’t ringing about fights with other kids, teachers calling saying they were in detention for fighting, gambling or god knows what else, it was dealing with all hell breaking loose at home, also known as the three of them arguing the moment they walked in the door.

This particular Tuesday, d’Artagnan was sitting at the kitchen table, concentrating on a school project, when the three of them came home. Athos entered first, Porthos and Aramis behind him, bickering. After twelve years of having the two of them in the one house, he simply learnt to tune them out.

‘I needed it for my maths class, and I gave it back’ Aramis complained.

‘I had a Physics test; I needed that calculator for it!’ Porthos sighed ‘I had to skip four questions!’

‘You’re such a drama queen,’ Aramis rolled his eyes.

‘What are they on about this time?’ d’Artagnan asked, not looking up.

‘How should I know?’ Athos sighed ‘what you working on, kid?’ D’Artagnan pulled a face and showed his brother the page.

‘Stupid project on Egypt,’ he moaned.

‘Ah, I remember when I did that,’ Aramis said, throwing some bread in the toaster ‘I got a C. Apparently drawing Cleopatra and Caesar in that way brings down marks.’

‘In what way?’ d’Artagnan asked, full of ten year old innocence. Aramis opened his mouth, but Porthos managed to get a cushion thrown at his head.

‘Ignore him,’ Athos said, patting his little brother’s head ‘where’s Dad?’

‘Work,’ the youngest said.

‘So, not here?’ Porthos said.

‘Nope,’ d’Artagnan smirked. The four brothers looked at each other, Aramis setting his blazer on the armchair, d’Artagnan putting his pencil down, Athos nodding at them, Porthos grinning, with a devious look in his eye.

Athos lifted the key from its hiding place above the living room door and opened the cabinet in the landing. He took his fencing gear, and his brothers’, and passed them out.

Once they were in their gear, swords in hand, they stood in a circle in the living room, all keeping an eye on one another.

‘En garde,’ Porthos smirked, thrusting a blow at d’Artagnan, who easily blocked it. Athos lunged at Aramis, who ducked, laughing, and swept his sword at Athos’ legs. The four fought around the room. The fight came to a climax with Porthos knocking d’Artagnan’s sword out of his hand, and all three of them cornering him on the sofa while he tried, and failed, to keep back the giggles. Thinking quickly, the boy darted through Athos’ legs, whipping off his jumper and slashing Aramis on the back with it. He scooped his sword up, deflecting a blow from all three of them, and jumping quickly out of the way.

‘I swear he’s improving,’ Athos smiled.

‘We’re just too easy on him,’ Aramis shook his head. Porthos laughed and d’Artagnan shook his head at that comment. He was about to leap up and take the opportunity to tap Athos’ chest, when a cough at the door made them all jump.

Treville stood in the doorway, glaring in at all of them.

‘He did it!’ all four of them dropped their swords and pointed at each other.

‘Kitchen. Now,’ Treville ordered. The boys all trooped in, knowing they were for it.

‘You know the rules,’ Treville said ‘no fencing outside the club. And no fighting in the house. You could have torn open one of my cushions.’

‘Are we grounded?’ Athos asked on behalf of all the kids.

‘You would be,’ Treville continued ‘if that hadn’t been some of the best fighting I’ve seen in all of you. You’ve all improved massively.’ The kids broke into grins, and their dad couldn’t help but smile back.

‘I hardly need to mention….’

‘If we ever do it again, we can kiss the next two weeks of our lives goodbye?’ d’Artagnan smiled.

‘Just so I know we’re clear,’ he said ‘now, homework now.’

With that, the boys grabbed their schoolbags and scurried upstairs, while Treville had to think of a new hiding place for their fencing equipment.


	3. On Wednesdays We Play Football

Wednesdays only ever meant one thing for d’Artagnan; football. Like his brothers had done before him, he played for his district’s under 12 football team. Aramis had been the captain last year, when he was in Year Six, as had Porthos and Athos when they were that age. One more year, and possibly, he could be too. People normally assumed, seeing as their dad was the coach, they got the position simply because of favouritism, but in reality, Treville was even harder on those four than with the rest of the team in order to make them prove themselves.

Tonight was the big night, if they won, they’d be playing against the Red Guards in the town championship. After a few laps on the field, d’Artagnan was on the bench when Treville came over and sat next to him.

‘Hey, kid,’ he said, fondly ‘you nervous?’

‘Heck nope,’ d’Artagnan scoffed, knowing he was a terrible liar. Treville patted his back.

‘Hey, look,’ he said, titling the boy’s chin up ‘you know you’re the star player on this team-and I am not just saying that. You’ve worked so hard for this match and no-one deserves this more than you. And whatever happens, I’ll be proud of you.’ D’Artagnan smiled and moved closer to his dad, who put an arm around him.

‘Thanks.’

‘And, Porthos, Athos and Aramis will be in the crowd, cheering you on.’ The boy pulled a face at this.

‘I thought this meant to encourage me.’

 

Athos ran through the stands, his brothers were close behind him. This was one of the biggest days of his little brother’s life, and he was going to get a front seat and see it all even if it killed him. He cast his mind back to when he was ten and in d’Artagnan’s position. He remembered the nerves, feeling his dad, his brothers, his team looking at him.

For weeks he and d’Artagnan had trained in the back garden, and he had to say that the kid had skills and was a naturally born footballer, but he was headstrong and let his emotions run away with him. It was the same in fencing, if d’Artagnan got angry, or someone pissed him off, then he got carried away and didn’t give enough attention to the game. It was his one weakness, if he could control that, the game was in the bag.

The team walked out onto the field, d’Artagnan leading them. There was a feeling of big brotherly in all three of them as they saw their youngest in his football kit. They all saw themselves in that place, where their little brother stood now.

 

The game had only ten minutes left, and both teams were level at two all. D’Artagnan had scored the first goal at about 20 minutes in, to which Aramis had yelled ‘THAT’S MY BROTHER!’

Now, the boy seemed to lose no energy as he ran around the field, staying tight to the boy with the ball. The boy lost it, but a team mate of d’Artagnan’s, Marsac, got it.

‘Pass, pass!’ d’Artagnan yelled. Athos rested his chin on his clasped hands, hoping he knew what he was doing. So far, Athos could see no tactics, but perhaps d’Artagnan had one planned out.

Before d’Artagnan could reach the ball, a player from the opposing team stole it. Five minutes left.

‘Come on, d’Artagnan,’ Porthos muttered beside him.

The boy swooped in and got the ball off the opposing team and ran down towards his net, keeping close control on the ball the whole time. On the big screen, the boys could see him run with it the other team close behind him. Three and a half minutes.

He was close enough to the net, but not enough to make the shot, and that part of the pitch was covered in the other team’s players. There was no way he could shoot from there and score, was there.

Seeing his options, d’Artagnan sped on, narrowly avoiding a tackle, and shot. The ball sailed past the defenders, close to the net.

And flew past the goalkeeper, into the back of the net.

There was a deafening uproar as the whole crowd was on their feet, applauding the goal. Aramis gave out loud whoops of appreciation, Porthos was screaming as he applauded. Athos determined to be the mature one did not do any of this, but made eye contact with his little brother, and gave him a huge grin. The boy gave him a breathless smile. Athos’ eyes turned to the scoreboard. Less than a minute to go. D’Artagnan must have seen it too, because he was gone by the time he looked back.

All that they could do was run with the ball before the buzzer sounded, signalling the end of the match. D’Artagnan’s teammates clambered around him, sharing in victorious hugs. Treville was congratulating all of them.

Finally, the boys could jump over the railing and run to their brother. Aramis lifted him up and spun him around.

‘You were brilliant!’ Athos exclaimed. Aramis put the kid down and Porthos ruffled his hair.

‘I knew you could do it, kiddo,’ he pulled d’Artagnan into a tight hug, until Treville intervened.

‘Hey, I need him intact for the finals,’ he said, but he was smiling ‘I’m so proud of you, kid.’

Athos smiled at the youngest of the family gave him a high five.

‘Now, seeing as I was the one who trained you,’ he joked ‘it seems fair I should have that medal.’ D’Artagnan punched his arm, but then threw his skinny little arms around his big brother.

‘Thanks, Athos,’ he mumbled into his ear.

 

The four burst into their house, d’Artagnan on Athos’ shoulders, singing ‘We Are The Champions’, rather off-key, until Treville interrupted them.

‘Alright, alright,’ he motioned for d’Artagnan to come down from Athos ‘yes, a lot of excitement, but school night. D’Artagnan, I want you teeth done, kit in wash and in bed in ten minutes. Aramis you have a maths test tomorrow, study for it. Porthos and Athos, I know for a fact you both have done no homework. Go.’

‘What?’ the boys complained looking at each other in disbelief. It seems that even when you were a champion, you could never escape family life.


	4. Thursday's child is full of woe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'Artagnan gets into a fight at school. His family are not impressed and want to get to the bottom of it.

Treville pulled the car into the car park of the primary school, sighing. He had had enough trouble with Aramis and Porthos, and even Athos had his fair share of scrapes, but he thought once Aramis left, he would never have to do this again. Until d’Artagnan got into a fight on the playground.

The ten-year-old sat on a plastic chair outside reception, picking at a loose thread on his trousers, not daring to look up. He wasn’t like Aramis, who had tried to sweet talk his way out of trouble, or Porthos, who would joke about it, or Athos, who took his punishment on his chin. D’Artagnan was guilty.

D’Artagnan watched from under his hair as Treville walked into Principal Richelieu’s office, who was ready to give the worst possible account of the fight.

It took ten minutes for Treville to appear again, and when he did, he looked sternly at d’Artagnan, who seemed to shrink in his chair. It struck the man who this was so uncharacteristic of the boy. Sure, he could be rough, cheeky at times, reckless, he fought with his brothers, but _this_ was so unlike him. He would not attack another student. Especially considering how these boys d’Artagnan had ‘tackled’ were almost twice his size. There was something else.

‘Car. Now.’

Athos pushed open the front gate, followed by his brothers.

‘Dad’ home,’ he announced, seeing his car in the drive.

‘That’s weird, he’s normally late Thursdays,’ Porthos observed. Aramis shrugged.

‘Maybe he just loves us that much.’ That turned out not to be the case. They were barely in the door when Treville shouted.

‘You three! Kitchen! Now!’ They trooped in, where d’Artagnan was sitting on a chair, with a cut and bleeding knee, a cut lip, a bruised eye, a scraped elbow and a bruise on his arm. He had his trouser leg rolled up, and Treville was putting a bandage on his knee when he turned and looked at the older three.

‘D’Artagnan,’ he began, sounding angry ‘do you want to tell your brothers what happened?’

‘No,’ the boy mumbled, looking at his hands, which were clasped I his lap.

‘Well I will,’ he turned and looked at them ‘your brother was in a fight!’ Athos looked at him curiously. Aramis on the other hand, burst into a grin.

‘That’s my little boy!’ he sang, until Treville gave him a stony glare.

‘You’ll only encourage him!’ he snapped.

‘A fight?’ Porthos asked, shocked ‘doesn’t sound like you, d’Art.’

‘No it doesn’t,’ Treville agreed ‘apparently, you took on two boys twice your size. Walked on up and punched one in the gut, was it d’Artagnan. He didn’t do anything to you?’ D’Artagnan looked at the floor, taking in a deep breath and shaking his head.

‘We all know what a bad liar you are, d’Arty,’ Aramis stated.

‘And you would not attack someone unless they started it,’ Porthos added.

‘Nothing happened,’ d’Artagnan mumbled.

‘Look at me,’ Treville ordered, tilting his head upwards ‘I know, and you know, that isn’t true. So what happened?’ The boy took a deep breath, and began his full story.

‘This morning, the vice principal came in to congratulate me on football. But I had to stand up while he talked and some of the boys were laughing at me. But I didn’t think anything of it. But when teacher left for a minute, people started chanting ‘Teacher’s pet’ and pointing at me,’ he swallowed and took in a deep breath before continuing ‘and then after break, I found someone had dumped my maths book in the bin. And when I lifted it out, Labarge called me a bin-picker and people were laughing at me.’

‘How did this lead to the fight?’ Athos asked. His stubborn little brother looked up at him.

‘I’m getting to that,’ he continued ‘and he and Constance Bonacieux’s brother, they started flicking my hair around and asking why I had girl’s hair. I just told them to go away. But at lunch time…..’ his voice trailed off and tears began running down his face ‘Bonacieux said, right in front of me “what a shame that d’Artagnan thinks he’s good enough for the football team” and Labarge said “he should hang up his kit now and stop embarrassing his family”.’ At this, Aramis gasped. ‘And then Bonacieux said “Well they’re not really his family. The only reason he is in this school is because his real family didn’t want him”.’ Porthos’ fist clenched, and Athos put his hand comfortingly on his back. ‘And then I stood up and told them to stop it. And Labarge pushed me over and Bonacieux,’ his tears came in waterfalls now, and he was gasping to get to complete his sentence.

‘Go on,’ Treville said gently, trying to coax the rest of it from the boy.

‘And-and and Bonacieux said ‘Push off back to Gascony, no one wants you here”. So I lost it and punched him and then……’ his voice trailed off ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You,’ Treville said ‘have nothing to be sorry for. Those boys said and did horrible things and you only wanted them to stop. I, on the other hand, am going to have a very serious word with their parents and with Principal Richelieu for letting this happen. But, here look at me. We are your real family. I don’t know why you were put up for adoption, but I’m so glad I got you, because I’m so proud to have you. Don’t ever let anyone make you think otherwise. Aramis, finish patching him up, right?’ With that, Treville left the kitchen, leaving the four of them alone at the table.

‘Come on, baby bro,’ Aramis said, looking at his eye ‘let’s get these scars covered, shall we?’ Porthos, unlike his brothers, who were being completely calm, was pacing in anger.

‘When I get my hands on those brats, I will _wind their legs around their chests_ ,’ he grumbled in anger. Athos sighed at his little brother, who had been picked on since the minute he set foot in school. If it wasn’t Milady de Winter, making him take the blame for all sorts, it was other kids making him feel bad about himself.

‘Dad’s right, d’Artagnan,’ he said ‘those kids are just bullies, who feel good when they make people upset. And you are better than that. And you are NOT an embarrassment, last night proved it. We are your brothers, and Dad is your dad, no matter what anyone else thinks. I could not be prouder to be your big brother’ He knelt down until he was at eye level with the kids. ‘Okay?’ D’Artagnan nodded, smiling. Aramis gave his hair a found ruffle.

‘WELL YOUR SON TOLD MY KID HE WASN’T WANTED,’ Treville yelled down the phone ‘SO YES I THINK THAT HE IS THE PROBLEM.’

Athos, Porthos and Aramis shared a wicked grin with each other.

‘D’Art,’ Aramis asked ‘you don’t happen to know where these kids live?’

And that night, the bullies learned an important lesson. If you attack one of the Musketeers, all four will put you in your place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments-this started as a one-shot AU but you guys asked me to continue-which I never expected. Thanks so much


	5. Getting down on Friday

Ah, Fridays. A day of coming home, relaxing after a long hard week. Unless you happened to be a Musketeer.

'It's Friday, Friday, gotta get down on-' Aramis sang, before being cut off in the middle of his performance.

'Sing the next line I will crack your head like an egg,' Porthos growled.

'You love this song and you know it!'

Inside, d'Artagnan was in his school shirt, untucked and top button undone in typical Friday evening fashion, on the sofa in the living room. When he saw his brothers through the window, he sat up. The fun of having his brothers fussing after his fight had gone off and he didn't want to be the helpless little boy any more.

'You suck the fun out of everything!' Aramis rolled his eyes at Porthos.

'Good day?' Treville asked, ignoring them.

'All right,' Athos shrugged.

'Hey, Dad can I go out tonight?' Porthos asked 'My friends are meeting up at the bus stop.'

'Which friends?' Treville asked, ever the concerned parents.

'Just everyone,' he sighed 'y'know, Charon and the gang. Please can I go?'

'Only after you eat something. Curfew's 11.'

Smiling, Porthos ran upstairs, motioning Aramis to follow. Athos smiled and went to the living room, leaning against the living room door frame.

'How's the wounded soldier?' D'Artagnan looked up and smiled, shrugging.

'I'll live,' he replied. Athos walked in and sat down next to him.

'How was school?' he asked.

'Not bad. At lunch the dinner lady slipped coming down the hall. People are saying she broke-'

'Damn the dinner lady,' Athos sighed 'you know what I meant.'

'Then no, Labarge and Bonacieux didn't do anything,' he sighed 'they've stopped.'

'Hey,' Athos looked at him, confused 'what's with that tone? I'm meant to be your favourite big brother.' D'Artagnan sighed and looked up at him.

'I'm sorry,' he said 'but I don't want everyone fussing over me. I'm not a child.' Athos smirked and ruffled his hair, taking care not to touch his eye.

'I know,' he said 'I just like treating you like one.'

Upstairs, Porthos ushered Aramis into his bedroom, and after doing a quick check, closed the door. When Aramis was brought home, Porthos was only finishing the chewing things stage, while Athos was walking around. The fact he had another baby to crawl with until he caught up lead to the pair of them being as thick as thieves.

'I am going to tell you something,' he lowered his voice 'but promise not to tell anyone. Not Dad, not even Athos or d'Artagnan. Promise?'

'Swear,' Aramis' eyes glittered, desperate to know the secret.

'I've got a girlfriend!' Porthos whispered. Aramis clapped his hands to his mouth in shock, and Porthos nodded at him.

'No way!'

'Yeah way.'

'Who?' Aramis asked before interrupting 'Is it that adorable red head in your German class.'

'What, Adele, no,' Porthos wanted to tell him, but he couldn't get a word in edgeways.

'Oh God it's the girl you gave the Valentine to,' he giggled 'that cute little brunette.'

'No, not Alice,' Porthos grabbed his brother's shoulders 'Flea. I'm dating Flea.'

'My next guess,' Aramis smiled 'how long has this?'

'A few weeks,' he smirked 'she just came up to me and asked me out!'

'Oh I never thought I'd see the day,' Aramis laughed 'when are you telling Dad?'

'I don't know, but  _don't say a word!'_

Both were completely unaware of the fact their brothers were outside the door, hands pressed to their mouths to keep them from giggling.

  


Later, d'Artagnan and Aramis were engaged in a ferocious game of Mario Kart when Porthos passed their bedroom. Instead of using the old ripped jeans, he had opted for his best jeans and shirt and his leather jacket.

'Later boys,' he said as he disappeared down the stairs. D'Artagnan bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. Athos, who was passing him on the stairs, gave d'Artagnan a quick 'No' headshake before Aramis closed the bedroom door.

  


It was 11:35. All lights were off in the house. The gate was locked, but Porthos, who had been blessed with the strongest legs, managed to lift himself over the fence and land on his two feet on the ground. Using his key, he unlocked the door and slipped in quietly, hoping to make it to his bedroom without any-the kitchen light was on when he walked in. Athos, Aramis and d'Artagnan stood against the counter, looking disapprovingly at him.

'Jesus,' he swore 'give me a heart attack.'

'Dad's going to kill you,' d'Artagnan stated, raising an eyebrow.

'Seriously,' Athos told him 'by 10 past he was steaming. He went to bed and told us to stay up to let you in.'

'So naturally, I wanted to barricade the door,' Aramis smirked. Porthos rolled his eyes.

'That bad?'

'Oh I'd say at least no phone for two weeks bad,' Aramis nodded.

'This is the third time you've broken curfew,' Athos lectured 'what on earth could you possibly be doing that makes you stay out that late?' Porthos looked at him, then d'Artagnan, then Aramis.

'Come on,' he changed the subject 'I'm back in time for.....'

'Second Friday of every month midnight movie,' the four of them chorused. They sneaked into Athos and Porthos' bedroom, and Athos pulled out four small bags of Doritos. Silently, he passed them out while Aramis and d'Artagnan set up their TV for  _The Hunger Games._

Covering themselves in blankets, volume low and subtitles on, the four brothers huddled together.

Whatever happened, friends, girlfriends, bullies, for the Musketeers, no one got in the way of their little family time.

  


  



End file.
